


Take Me Away

by bettymeow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock, i hope it was okay, idk where this came from, let me know if i'm trash, sorrryyyy?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettymeow/pseuds/bettymeow
Summary: Teenlock.John seeks comfort in Sherlock after an explosive, stressful night at home."I wanna get out, hey, take me away. I wanna shout out take me away, away, away, away, away."





	Take Me Away

John found himself smiling at his phone a little too often lately. It was becoming a Pavlovian response for him; rather than salivating at the sound of a bell, his mouth bloomed open into a wide grin every time he heard a small ping. John sighed as he turned another page in his Anatomy book, his eyes slowly dragging across the meaningless words printed in front of him. His phone buzzed, the screen illuminating with a text from Sherlock. He grinned immediately and swiped open the text, instantly laughing from what he saw.  
  
_I’m dying. –SH_  
  
**Shouldn’t you be calling an ambulance? –JW**  
  
John attempted to continue his Anatomy homework, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again; that was, until his phone vibrated again. John had to face the truth: he wasn’t going to get any homework done tonight.  
  
_I figured you were a better alternative. –SH_  
  
_How’s homework? –SH_  
  
**I’m dying. –JW**  
  
_Shouldn’t you be calling an ambulance? –SH_  
  
**Wow, so original. Prick. –JW**  
  
John was definitely grinning now.  
  
_Shut up. –SH_  
  
**Make me. –JW**  
  
**How’s your not-doing-homework thing working out? –JW**  
  
_I was so bored that I actually ended up doing some homework. –SH_  
  
_Don’t tempt me, Watson. –SH_  
  
**You could do my homework for me, to be less bored of course. –JW**  
  
_Honestly contemplating it… --SH_  
  
John chuckled, his book now closed and completely disregarded on the other side of his bed. As he was typing a reply, the sound of his door being cracked open instantly set a shiver down his spine. That familiar squeak of the door cut right through his happy daze.  
  
No. Not again.  
  
His father stood on the other side of the door, skin glowing red from intoxication.  
  
“What’re you smilin’ at, Johnny-boy?” The man slurred, pointing a shaking finger at his son.  
  
John’s smile slid right off of his lips as he stared coldly at his father, his jaw flexing from frustration.  
  
“I said, what’re you smilin’ at?!”  
  
John rolled his eyes and shook his head and spat out, “Nothing.”  
  
His father leaned against John’s doorframe for support, “Damn straight, nothing.”  
  
John’s phone vibrated again and he slid it into his pocket, causing his father to take a staggering step into the room. Too many steps for John’s comfort.  
  
“Get out of my room!” John lashed out, earning him a beer can thrown in his direction.  
  
“You shut your damn mouth! I pay the bills here, it’s my room,” His father moved another step closer to John.  
  
“Do you? I always assumed you pissed your money drinking twice your weight in booze,” John snapped out, his heart thumping wildly with adrenaline.  
  
His father stared blankly at him, which used to scare John when he was little. He didn’t recognize the man behind that stare. There wasn’t even a man behind that stare. There’s a monster lurking in those hazy, bloodshot eyes—a disgusting creature that feeds off of the unhappiness of others; unhappiness that he alone causes.  
  
“What did you just say to me?” His father said slowly, emphasizing each word as if it were actually going to intimidate John.  
  
The blonde stood extremely still, and barely even breathed. He was on-edge, his muscles rigid with stress, like a loaded spring ready to pop off at any moment. He knew the drill, and was ready for the first shot to go off.  
  
“You heard me,” John retorted, his arms tingling with anticipation.  
  
“Since when did you decide to grow some fucking balls, eh?” Gary asked, taking another step closer.  
  
“The day you decided to pawn yours off,” John hissed.  
  
His dad’s eyes flared as he gritted out, “Oh yeah? And when was that, son?”  
  
“When you decided to lay your fat, pudgy fucking fingers on my mother, you piece of shit!” John screamed, unable to contain his anger anymore.  
  
And the first shot is fired.  
  
John ducked out of the way of his father’s fist, but felt as his dad grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and pull him closer. Another swing.  
  
Bang. This time, he was hit. His father’s fist connected with his cheek, a shockwave of pain surging instantly throughout his face. He could already imagine the bruise would look like tomorrow, and how many people would stare. The horrid sound of whispers underneath covered mouths filled his ears. When he was younger, this was the end for John. His father would pound on him mercilessly, while John quivered and wailed during the beating. Hit, after hit, after hit, after hit; and all John could do was cry.  
  
John would cry until he felt like he was going to puke out his own lungs. He cried until his throat hurt more than the parts of his body where his dad’s fists slammed into. He cried until he was so drained of energy, that he would just pass out soon after his father left the room. He cried hoping someone would hear him. He cried hoping someone would save him.  
  
But John was older now, stronger. He could fight back, and he damn sure was going to. Using all his might, his cocked his arm back and swung, feeling his fist collide against the monster’s cheek, successfully knocking the drunk onto his fat ass. A dark feeling bloomed in the recesses of his chest, and he felt his foot come up to make contact with a prominent beer gut.  
  
“You little shit!” His father wailed.  
  
John dashed passed the drunk and ran downstairs as fast as his legs could take him. He grabbed the car keys off of the kitchen counter and made a mad dash for his car. Thankfully, his mother wasn’t home. John didn’t want his father taking his rage out on his mum again. John revved the engine and peeled out, terrified that his father was coming after him. John sped off down the street before pulling out his phone and seeing new texts from Sherlock.  
  
_I’ll do it. –SH_  
_…Or not? –SH_  
_Now I’m bored again. –SH_  
_John? Did you really die? –SH_  
  
John smiled weakly before dialing his mother’s number. It rang twice before she answered.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
John frowned, “Not really, Mum. Where are you?”  
  
“I’m at Auntie’s house. Why, sweetie, what’s wrong?”  
  
He hated the fear in her voice, “Please stay there for the night.”  
  
Her voice deadpanned, “Did he hit you?”  
  
John clenched his jaw, suddenly aware of the intense throbbing in his cheek. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, his knuckles white from clenching the steering wheel.  
“Y-yeah, but just once. I knocked him down. Just—“ he paused to collect himself, “Please stay with her tonight.”  
  
He could hear his mother sniffling and he felt the tears finally pool over onto his cheeks. John pulled over to the side of the road and parked his car, feeling his heart cracking in two at the sound of his mother’s sobs.  
  
“Please don’t cry, Mom. I’m okay,” John said shakily, his voice betraying him.  
  
“I’m so sorry, John. I’m so, so, sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Mom.”  
  
“Where are you staying tonight?” She asked, sniffling loudly on the other side of the phone.  
  
Shit. John hadn’t thought about that quite yet.  
  
“I’ll crash at a friend’s house or something. I have the car.”  
  
The sigh that his mother let out did nothing to comfort John, “Call or text me when you figure it out, okay? I don’t want you on the phone while driving.”  
  
John smiled weakly and rubbed his tired eyes, “Will do, Mom. Love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
John hung up his phone before dialing Sherlock’s number. He put the phone to his ear and pulled back onto the road, already driving towards Sherlock’s house—almost as if by instinct. He really, really hoped that Sherlock was home.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
The sound of Sherlock’s voice brought a small wave of relief over John. There was a beacon of hope after all.  
  
“Hey, what’s up?” John asked, trying to sound as normal as he could manage.  
  
“Nothing much, why’d you call?” Sherlock quipped in response.  
  
Of course. Leave it to Sherlock to jump right to the chase.  
  
“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.”  
  
He heard some shifting from Sherlock’s end before answering, “I’d love to. Come on over.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

 

John pulled into Sherlock’s driveway and breathed a sigh of relief when he put his car in park. He climbed out of the car and walked up to Sherlock’s front door, knocking briefly on the posh mahogany wood. John rocked back and forth on his feet as he waited, his eyes fixated on the ground as an attempt to hide his face as long as he could.  
  
“Hey there,” Sherlock said as he opened the door, a warm smile evident in his voice.  
  
John looked up and watched as Sherlock’s face fell into an expression of shock and horror. He saw the worry creep into Sherlock’s beautiful baby blue irises. Beautiful? He meant peculiar. Yeah—peculiar.  
  
“John!” Sherlock barked as he pulled John inside, now examining John’s face in the light.  
  
“What?” John asked, suddenly insecure under Sherlock’s heavy stare.  
  
“What. Happened. To. You?” He enunciated, clearly aggravated that John was trying to beat around the bush.  
  
John sighed when Sherlock grabbed his chin and tilted his face, his eyes darting across the swollen lump forming on the side of his face. He wondered how ugly it must look already.  
  
“Nothing happened, alright?” John argued weakly.  
  
“Sure doesn’t look like nothing.” Sherlock bitterly retorted.  
  
John jerked his head out of Sherlock’s grasp, taking a step away from him, “Can we—I don’t want to talk about it, alright? Please.”  
  
Sherlock eyes didn’t seem as full of life as they normally did when he looked at John. The brunette nodded twice and sighed before turning into his living room, taking a seat on the leather couch. John took his shoes off and kicked them to the side of the door before going to sit on the opposite end of the couch. The two boys sat in silence—nothing like their usual, comfortable silence. No, this was different. The air felt heavy, and John could almost feel the waves of tension rolling off of Sherlock’s body.  
  
John’s heart ached, and he was tired. So tired. The last thing he wanted was for Sherlock to be mad at him. He could feel his eyes welling up as he cleared his throat.  
  
“It was my dad, alright?” John forced out with a shaky voice.  
  
He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him again, which made John turn to meet his gaze. Sherlock’s shoulders were rigid and he unnervingly quiet, which John took as an invitation to continue speaking.  
  
“He’s a drinker, always has been,” John said, forcing himself to look away.  
  
He was ashamed to admit this to Sherlock. John didn’t want Sherlock to see his dark past, and his horrible upbringing; he didn’t want his friend to think it a poor reflection of his character, He was ashamed that he forced his biggest weakness upon Sherlock. John felt a tear drip from the corner of his eye and land on his hot, flaring cheek. It slowly trickled over his cheekbone, leaving a cool trail of moisture in its wake.  
  
“He hits me and my mum when he’s shit faced. We got into a fight tonight because I just can’t—I can’t sit there and let him get away with it anymore. I want to fucking murder him. God, there is nothing I hate—“  
  
John was choked up by a sudden lump in his throat and he let his head fall, a steady stream of tears leaking from his eyes. He felt a strong pair of arms lock him around him, pulling John into a warm bear hug—and he lost it. John cried noiselessly, having perfected the silent sob many years ago. He leaned into Sherlock’s embrace, too weak and tired to hold himself up anymore.  
Sherlock didn’t say a word. He just held John through the tears, through the pain. John cried until he was all dried up, without a tear left to shed. Sherlock continued to silently rub John’s back and even rubbed at John’s neck to relieve the tension that nestled comfortably there.  
  
“Sorry,” John croaked out.  
  
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Sherlock said quietly, trying to keep his voice from breaking.  
  
John’s lips perked up into a small smile, his voice a bit hoarse as he spoke, “Too late, I just did.”  
  
Sherlock let out a soft chuckle and elbowed John playfully, “Leave it to you to be an arse after all of that.”  
  
John reluctantly pulled away and watched as Sherlock wiped at his own eyes. He smiled more at the sight and Sherlock rolled his eyes fondly at his John.  
  
“You’re unbelievable,” Sherlock said incredulously, a grin on his lips too.  
  
John stared at Sherlock for a moment, before adding a soft, “Thank you.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “Anytime. Whenever you need to get away, please call me.”  
  
“I will. Same goes for you. Wherever, whenever,” John stated.  
  
“Let me get you some ice for your face. Go up to my room, I bet you’re tired,” Sherlock said before standing and walking into his kitchen.  
  
Sherlock was right—John was exhausted. He rose and trudged up the stairs, collapsing on Sherlock’s bed, instantly feeling as if he were surrounded by a cloud. Today was a complete wreck, and it left John feeling just as such. He heard Sherlock enter the room, and felt the bed sink next to him. John knew he was safe here, even if it was only for a little while. Knowing that Sherlock was next to him and wasn’t going anywhere let the blonde feel a bit more at ease.  
  
He felt something warm press against his normal cheek. It felt like a pair of lips, but John was fading too fast for his brain to process. Then, he felt a cool pressure on his swollen cheek before everything faded to black.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH!!!!! i'm garbage omg i hope you liked this. idk where it came from and i'm so sorry lolololoololol. <3333


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